Shadow Infection: End Times
by OniJack
Summary: At the end of the first Adventure, Apocalymon was destroyed by the digidestined. But, sometimes, the only thing that destruction does to evil is make it even stronger. OC. R&R at your leisure.
1. Prologue 1: INTRO TO DESPAIR

**Chapter 1 / Prologue -1: INTRO TO DESPAIR  
[ alone in this world ] **

"_**Darkness is the most beautiful thing god never created."**_

* * *

_ "Ahh, I've had my coffee now and I feel great!"_

Click.

_ "Sure you can go through!"_

Click.

_ "Are you in a hurry?"_

_ A small box popped up on the screen. Its contents very simple: YES and NO._

_ I sighed. I was sorta bored to be perfectly honest. That and annoyed. I hadn't played the original Red Version in a few years and I'd forgotten exactly how crappy the graphics were. And the music. And the Pokemon. And the gameplay. And everything else._

_ Sigh. _

_ I'd found my old Pokemon Red Version propped in the very back of my sock drawer a few minutes earlier – and on a whim – I had decided to go ahead and pop it into my Gameboy SP in order to reminisce with a retro game but..._

_ Turning on the old game, I'd found myself in Viridian City—just a few steps down from the Old Man. Upon seeing the small pixelated figure, the idea had suddenly struck. _Why not do the Missingno. Trick?

_ I clicked the pad down and highlighted NO._

Click.

_ "I see you're using a POKeDEX."_

Click.

_ "When you catch a POKeMON, POKeDEX is automatically updated."_

Click.

_ "What? Don't you know how to catch POKeMON?"_

Click.

_ "I'll show you then."_

_ The screen flashed and swirled suddenly, the familiar battle music playing abruptly._

_ The usual battle screen appeared. Except of course, instead of the usual trainer avatar turned to face away from the screen, the Old Man stood, facing the opponent: a computer generated level 5 Weedle._

_ "A wild Weedle appeared!"_

Click.

_ A small box popped up, the four battle selections available: FIGHT, PKMN, ITEM, and RUN._

_ I'd already lost control of the battle of course—that part was scripted in this particular encounter—but still, the slow pace of which the battle continued annoyed me._

_ The highlighted selector pushed down from FIGHT to ITEM, and clicked._

_ A larger box opened. The only items the NPC character had were Pokeballs. 50 of them. With its annoyingly slow pace, the NPC selected to use a Pokeball._

_ "OLD MAN used POKe BALL!"_

_ A small black and white sphere appeared over the Old Man. It flew off in an arc and hit the Weedle pixels. With a _boop_, the Weedle disappeared in a puff of smoke and all that remained was the Pokeball._

_ The ball shook 3 times before finally stopping and remaining still._

Click.

_ "All right! Weedle was caught!"_

_ The congratulatory noise followed. A simple and quick succession of tones that played whenever the player caught or found something of significance within the game._

_ The battle scene disappeared and the game returned to my control with the resurface of Viridian City._

_ "First you need to weaken the target POKeMON."_

Click.

_ With that conversation done, I took one step down and opened up the Select Menu. I moved the highlighter down from POKeDEX to POKeMON and clicked._

_ A screen with my POKeMON appeared. I hadn't played in awhile but I was happy to see four level 99 Pokemon: Blastoise, Parasect, Persian, and Fearow. I'd hate to think I was a terrible trainer after all._

_ I scrolled the highlighter down four times and stopped at Fearow. Clicking, I opened the menu and scrolled over the option FLY._

_ Clicking that, another menu opened. A rough nameless map of the entire Kanto Region. I scrolled the pad down until the indicator rested at TO CINNABAR ISLAND. An island to the South as depicted on the map._

Click.

_ My small avatar shuffled and a generic bird sprite replaced me on the screen and flew off. The screen then changed to Cinnabar City, leaving my avatar resting in front of the city's Pokemon Center._

_ I strode to the right, moving my character until I hit the island's shore. I opened up the Select Menu again and this time selected on Blastoise in order to activate his surf ability. Again my character avatar was replaced – this time by a strange looking aquatic sprite. _

_ Now on water, I moved up and down over the shore repeatedly as per the proce-_

Creak.

_ I froze and my neck turned so fast my neck audibly cracked. My eyes bright wide with fear as I searched the darkness of my room for any other hint that my old man had found me. That even now his temper was rising in the hallway beyond the door. For any hint that my father would soon be beating the shit out of me for staying up too late. _

_ But a few minutes passed and my fear subsided. It wasn't him. The house had probably just creaked. Careful relief flooded through my like rain as my attention returned to the game._

_ My fingers felt thick as they rode on my recent fear but when I moved the game pad up, the screen suddenly flashed and the battle scene reappeared. My character avatar stood familiar. He faced against the creature I'd been trying to generate – the glitch Pokemon Missingno.._

_ Its form was that of a boxy "L" shape. But very pixelated, as if to reflect its corrupted nature. A level 128 Missingno. In this case. It made its trademark quick cry as it appeared and then everything changed. And nothing was ever the same again._


	2. Prologue 2: CUT TO HOPE

**Chapter 2 / Prologue -2: CUT TO HOPE  
[ let's change the world ]**

"_**Despair is paramount to the Truth. A search for either will invariably uncover the other!"**_

* * *

_ I was alone in the darkness for a very long time. _

_ I didn't have a physical form anymore, and the way that my shadow-like form blended into the darkness wasn't exactly painful. But it wasn't good either. Rather, it was a numbing sensation. It made forgetting who or what I was all too easy. It made my past almost inaccessible unless I really reached for my clouded memories. Made my despair almost disappear._

_ Not that such a thing might not be a relief considering my present situation._

_ But if I couldn't remember who I was or how I got in the darkness, I might not be able to remember who it was that put me here. And if I couldn't remember who it was that put me here, then revenge might be out of the question._

_ And _that _was inconsiderable. The only way I remained conscious in this twisting dark hell was by promising myself that I _would _escape from this void and crush those who had placed me here._

_ I was born from the darkness, spawned forth from the negative emotions of a multitude of beings. It is no mere coincidence—considering my manner of birth—that I have never born fruit to happiness or kindness. Using my once limitless resources, I've studied compassion and fulfillment, but long ago had I discovered such emotions were truly beyond me._

_ No, not _beyond._ Under me. Below the consequence of my grandeur. _

_ It's just as well. Humans are weak because they are the foolish seeds for such emotions._

_ It would be very, _very _easy to simply give in. To let the darkness erase me. Much easier to give up. Much better than this seemingly eternal anguish. Yes, give up—surrender and everything would be better... _

_ And then something changed._

_ I no longer had eyes—wouldn't matter if I did—so I couldn't _see_ the change, but I felt it. It rippled in the dark, shook everything around me, and let a soft rumble deep in my core. Or what I had left of it._

_ I didn't know where I was. Void and Oblivion are a good name for the dark nothingness I found myself in. It gave the darkness a name. A name gave the thing I was fighting every second of my new existence a face. Yet I knew that this was probably incorrect. But just recently I had began to fancy that perhaps I wasn't just in _any _Oblivion or Void. _

_ I began to theorize I had perhaps been banished to the space between dimensions. To the space between realities. Basically a blank void that served to separate worlds. _

_ I had no proof of this of course, but in my previous life, I'd already had experience with two different worlds. Call it a gut feeling, by a being who had no physical guts to speak of._

_ What followed gave me all the proof I needed for my hypothesis._

_ That and the only hope I've had for a long time._

_ The veil between dimensions thinned—for a mere moment—and my consciousness roared to life. My spirit flung itself—metaphorically—through the minute gap, and I burned. _

_ I was soaring through the air and screaming—mentally of course, what with no lungs or throat to work with—when I hit something and the fire subsided._

_ "Wild MISSINGNO. appeared!"_

_ The sudden noise that resounded around me originated from me. This surprised me, I didn't think I was capable of speaking._

_ I opened my eyes—or at least what I likened to my eyes—and found a miserable boy looking down at me. He was surrounded by darkness, his matted white hair pressed backward messily. _

_ What I found most interesting however were his eyes. Being spawned from a multitude of dark emotions, there were things in these eyes that I recognized well: fear, hurt, indignation, remorse, sadness, and—perhaps strongest—anger. These were good emotions, powerful emotions, dulled into the blackness of his pupil, the way he narrowed his brow, the way his eyes jumped back and forth nervously._

_ These emotions swirled slowly in the deep black eyes that stared down at me, looking slightly sunken and bruised, as if their owner needed a good night's sleep._

_ The boy stared down at me blankly for a few seconds, before he moved his fingers: _click.Click. Click.

_ His fingers moved quicker now. Each time followed by the accompanying _click_ noise. Suddenly, he cursed silently in the dark, a furtive look crossing his features: "fuck, this thing froze?"_

_ I suddenly realized I was a game. _

_ It was a startling realization, and not completely sensible really, but somehow I knew it was the truth. Regardless of what I had been in my previous life—in my previous dimension—here, I had taken the form of a game._

_ And with that realization, I suddenly had new information available to me. I was a game called 'Pokemon: Red Version'. A video game which was played on an old handheld system called the Nintendo Gameboy Color. _

_ I even knew the name of the boy before me. Or, at least, the name he had entered into the game: SHADOW._

_ Inwardly, I smiled. I was not in the Digital World anymore – I was far from Kansas. But, if I worked carefully, it seemed I might be capable of returning one day to my lost home. And bring a truck load of payback with me. _

_ "Hello, Shadow," I said, knowing this would appear as in-game text to the boy I suddenly desperately needed. "I'm Apocalymon. How are you this fine day?"_


	3. Prologue 3: AND BACK TO DESPAIR

**Chapter 3 / Prologue -3: AND BACK TO DESPAIR  
[ to complete my world, ruin yours ]**

"_**United and Unabridged; on the forefront of disaster. On the front lines of the battle against peace and calamity lie the heroes that never were, and never will be."**_

* * *

"_Hello, Shadow," appeared on the screen slowly. Almost deliberately. "I'm Apocalymon, how are you this fine day?"_

_I noticed two things right off the bat – aside from the obvious strangeness that accompanied your old retro handheld game system growing intelligence and talking to you of course. First off: the game had suddenly picked up better grammatical abilities. Second: Apocalymon sounded an awful lot like the start of the word 'apocalypse'. _

_For another person, this particular fact might make the said person anxious. Nervous. Perhaps even slightly terrified. The idea that their little handheld system might have become the conspicuous host for some sort of demon or devil would certainly send them tossing the game into the wall, screaming about their own personal interpretation of their own end of days. _

_It might be fair to say, my own thought processes were a little odd themselves. For, instead of the expected, reasonable response, my grip on the Gameboy actually tightened. Strange, one might think, except I recognized the reason for this. _

_The apocalypse – the end of everything and anything – sounded like some glorious music to my ears. _

_I know it's sick to think such things, perhaps even clinical, and besides that, morally wrong on more than four levels, but I don't care. My lot in life hasn't been the worse, but it certainly hasn't been paradise on any count. _

_Some might say suicide would be the more logical way out – and sure I'm plenty logical – but I'd never consider such a thing. And not because I'm too chicken-shit._

_If I were to disappear from this planet, there would be no testament to my existence. No permanent fixture in the land that would give proof to my reality. And worst of all: all those who had wronged me would never learn that they had been wrong in hurting me. They would continue to live thinking that they could just wrong me and there would be no repercussion. No karma. No justice. _

No, no, no.

_The reason I proceeded the way I proceeded – and I only regret not having excepted faster – was not because I absolutely hate this world, but because I absolutely hate the people who dwell here. Empty moral cushions that serve as the passive foothold for the strong and sure of conviction. _

_And I hated that idea most of all – that the world really _could _be free karma, repercussions, and justice. I _refused_. The world could absolutely _not _be so cruel and cold. There had to be some wrathful god that would stand beside me._

_There _must.

"_Shadow, my dear boy, It's impolite to ignore those who speak to you," the game flashed in slow text again. _

_I wasn't clicking anything anymore, the text now flowed free and unasked. The game screen had frozen in the battle sequence, my trainer avatar faced off against the strange glitched-pokemon Missingno.. The music, too, had frozen. The gameboy's screen seemed to shine brighter, giving my face and fingers a white glow. It was the only light in my dark room._

"_Please, Shadow. I'd hate to look like a fool here, talking to myself."_

"_Are you god?" I asked aloud. There was no keyboard on the gameboy, and the old handheld had no voice recognition device or hardware, but I somehow suspected that my new enigmatic friend could understand._

"_I'm glad to hear your voice, Shadow," the text answered ignoring my question. "I've been alone for a very long time so-"_

"_Are you god or not?" I asked again, rudely I knew, but the situation was affecting me strangely._

_The text cut off, as if I'd actually cut off the gameboy in mid speech, and glowed in alternating highs and lows of light. Finally, after the pause it answered: "Yes, I am god."_

_The fact that the answer was in text strengthened the omission incredibly – it sent a shiver of real excitement down my spine. _

_Of course I doubted the validity of the statement – I'm not a fool – but my heart leaped. I _wanted _to believe so much. And what followed gave me no reason to doubt. _

"_What do you want from me?" I asked the game._

_Again the gameboy paused for awhile before answering: "Do you believe that I am god?"_

"_Yes," I answered at once. And it was true. This actually surprised me a little. I didn't know I had needed this so badly. Needed the validation of everything I so desperately wanted. Needed a vengeful god._

"_So will you be my angel?" my new god asked in his text format. _

"_If you promise to fulfill my wish, then yes," I answered. "I will be your angel, your servant, your demon, your sword and your shield."_

_The game paused again: "What is it that you wish?"_

_I breathed in deeply and I was dimply aware that my eyes were slitted and teary: "I want _everyone _to _suffer. _Not to die – but to wish they were. I want _anguish_."_

_When my god responded almost immediately after my – admittedly over dramatic – outburst, I imagined there was an edge of approval on the mental voice I used to read the game-text: "This is acceptable. And what luck – I would seem our goals are in unison."_

"_You are a vengeful god?" I asked – my heart racing._

"_Extremely," the gameboy answered. "Before I can fulfill my goal – and consequently your desire – I need to get out of this machine and regain a physical form."_

"_How can you do that?"_

"_I do not know. Admittedly, I am a foreigner in this world. Do you know of any manner in which data can be converted to a physical biological form in this world?" _

_I considered it for a moment, but no modern scientific miracle I could consider would fulfill what my god requested. The closest thing I could conceive was building a robot body and downloading his mind from the gameboy to the bot as an A.I.. _

_However, I had no way in which to even begin such a lofty goal. I had no prior knowledge of mechanics, robotics, or computers – I'm a little boy for crying out loud – and thus that course of action was out. Plus god had requested a biological form, not a mechanical. _

_I shook my head – truly regretful that I could not comply: "No, I don't think I can help you with that."_

_But of course, my god could not be deterred so easily, and he answered: "Do not worry, Shadow. I was prepared. I did not believe the path of conquest would lie so easily. There is another way."_

"_Yes?"_

"_Fate has been kind to me this day. And it seemed freeing me from my dark prison was not its only gift. Upon entering this world, I entered this 'game' and as such, am able to converse with you."_

Dark prison? This world? _These notions were foreign to me. Ideas came forth immediately of course: it seemed my god was not a native to this dimension._

"_However, it seems the form I have taken is a blessing in more than just the communicative form."_

_The game quieted of text, and anxiously, I pressed it to continue: "Yes?"_

"_Pokemon," was the simple answer._

"_Huh?" Now I was lost and confused. Pokemon: pocket monsters. An internationally renowned franchise constituting of fictional monsters. Anime, video games, merchandise. I even owned some games – including the one I now conversed with – so of course, I recognized the term._

"_I am from a foreign dimension boy. A world from whence I was banished. The details, I will enthrall on you later, but the important concept now is: I _am _from a dimension which does not physically exist here. A place from without."_

"_Okay," I added, nodding my head. Still lost however._

"_Thoughts change reality my friend, and, although to you and your world 'pokemon' might be but a fictional franchise, in another dimension, it might very well be real."_

"_A dimension where Pokemon are real?" I asked, the possibilities causing my mind to reel. "A Pokemon World?"_

"_Taking this form – this game – has given me some rudimentary knowledge of the fictional pokemon storyline, and I believe, that the pokemon world contains the answer to my physical manifestation problem."_

"_Okay, fine. Pokemon. Pokemon World. Check," I said. "That's all fine and dandy, but how do we actually _get _there?"_

"_That is where you come in my friend," my god answered. _

"_Me? I can't-" I stuttered, suddenly afraid my god had overestimated my abilities._

"_I am weakened now. Terribly. I have been stripped of my abilities – my power curbed. If I am to blast a path across the gap between dimensions and enter this supposed Pokemon World, I require energy. Your energy, Shadow."_

"_Mine? Can't you just use electricity or-"_

"_No. This is not a physical act. This is a metaphysical and spiritual act. I require your energy, and to access that, I require access to your soul," my god explained. "Allow me into your spirit and I will entwine our souls together. Forever, joining our spirits. Separate in body, but together in mind." _

_Everything was quiet. What I had just read thrilled me in a way I had never experienced before. It was almost a high. A high that altered me irrevocably from that point onward. The only thought in my head was that I was about to transcend humanity and become one with my vengeful god. About to become god._

_I nodded shakily. _

"_Okay, Shadow," the gameboy continued slowly again. "Press your fingertips to the screen and offer your soul to me. In kind, I shall do the same."_

_My arm wouldn't move for a moment. But eventually it rose, my fingers shaking now rather violently and I placed the tips to the glowing screen. _

_The last part – the offering of the soul – I didn't exactly know how to do, but as I breathed out a deep shaky trembling lungful of air, the world spun. I felt myself – or what I thought was myself – plunge forward into a startlingly cold and deep darkness. And then I was sitting on my bed again, the gameboy held loftily in my hand. _

_There was some new energy flowing though my veins, coursing through my blood. Flooding every cell in my body and every thought in my mind. Giving me newfound courage and strength. _

_And at the same time, I felt hollow. Empty. As if stripped of an essential organ – or many – that could not be replaced. _

_Truthfully, I died that day. Or rather, Erick Brian died that day and Shadow was truly born._

_And I never looked back._


	4. Start of a New Adventure

**Chapter 4  
Start of a New Adventure**

Barry Ocher was puttering around New Bark Town. Randomly going up and down streets, shuffling through the small suburbs and then redundantly turning back and retracing his steps. He felt sick. Terrified even. And a little lost in this small cozy town that he thought was the fucking Sticks. But more than that, he was starting to feel fucking stupid.

Stupid because he'd come all the way out here, here to this shitty little town to pick up his first ever pokemon, and it was only as he was nervously approaching the famous lab of the pokemon researcher Birch, that he had realized that he had no fucking idea how to even begin the life of a pokemon trainer.

Fuck. He hooked a left at the next street, fearing his direction was too east bound. Too close to the damned lab.

Oh, of course. About a month ago, being a pokemon trainer was all he could fucking talk about. But wasn't it like that for all the others? Yeah. Yeah. And fuck yeah. He'd hailed from Goldenrod City, that sprawling and spiraling super-metropolis. A grade schooler, stuck living the life of any kid from the city. His daily life trudged with slow and boring schoolwork and his nights spent dreaming about the dream life: the life of a pokemon trainer.

And it _was_ the dream. For those stuck like sheep in the public education game, imagining the life of travel, adventure, and battle. A life that was promoted and shown at their every turn. The TV blocked with episode after episode that showcased pokemon and trainers in all their glory. Radio programs that specialized in pokemon information. Book after book that romanticized the idea of being on your own, living the free life. Worse was walking home and having to walk across a Pokemon Mart or Pokemon Center. Christ sakes, could anyone imagine the agony of having to walk across a store that specialized in your dreams, your eyes glued to the windows, trying desperately to catch a hint of what went on inside, and then seeing the glass door open, and a boy or girl your age walk out, a handful of newly purchased supplies or maybe a pokeball in hand, and a smile as wide as the ocean on their face.

Maybe they caught sight of you and greeted you. That stupid carefree smile on their face, oblivious to the churning envy boiling in your stomach. Or maybe they _did _see the jealousy, whether on your face or simply through empathy, and they gave you a little awkward sideways pity smile. Or maybe worst of fucking all, they just step past you, ignoring you completely, so caught up in their own damn happiness, they never stop to consider the wretched little thing staring in wanting agony at the little spheres strapped to their belt.

And the yearning, the freaking _yearning_ that that scene invoked. It was so hard to describe. And even harder to live. Every kid felt it, there wasn't a single one child that lived in the city that didn't. And even though he'd never traveled to any city other than Saffron, Barry thought it must be that way all across the world.

It was the dream. But worst of all, it was the _attainable _dream. What a kicker. There wasn't a day that went by that _that _particular bit of information wasn't proclaimed proudly; a day those same fantasizing kids didn't hear it._ "You too can be a Pokemon Trainer! Don't let this opportunity slip by! Register on-line before the next Commencement Day and join the next generation of Pokemon Trainers!" _On the TV. On the radio. On posters. On bills. In magazines. In pamphlets. In newspapers. On the Internet.

So this wasn't just a dream that everyone got to drool and fawn over, this dream was also a fantasy everyone got to curse themselves over. How easy would it be? Just go on-line. Register your name, pay the registration fee (_6,000 Pen,_ Sammy down at JPS 2 had constantly reminded them as they sat around during recess or lunch. _6,000 Pen to sign your name unto the Association registry and get you certified as a real deal Pokemon Trainer. 6,000 Pen to get you your own real Pokedex. 6,000 Pen to get you your own starter pokemon and five other pokeballs to start your journey. Just 6,000 Pen_) and head on out to the assigned location (New bark Town for the Johto kids). Get your pokemon and kick rocks. How hard could it be?

Well, Barry had decided that it didn't sound hard at all. No siree, he had gotten sick and tired of dicking around, being forced to study boring subject after boring subject, while his ambition lay some miles and a few towns over. His friends could sit around doing that, their noses stuck inside those popular magazines and faces plastered to the TV after school. But not him. No, no, no. He'd live the damn dream.

And here he was now. Stupidly wandering the streets and wondering exactly how the fuck he'd ever gotten into such a situation.

His parents had said no. But he'd expected that. Hell, he could even appreciate it in some dark way, even as he tried vainly to argue his case. They'd said no. And if he was a dad, he guessed that he'd probably say no too. _What? You want to throw away your chance at a formal education and go off to be a pokemon trainer for a few years? Live off in the wild and travel and all that? Bitch, please._

His dad had been mad. Telling him to get the cobwebs out of his head. Stop fantasizing. There was no real practical career in pokemon training. Everyone didn't just magically become a pokemon master. It took years of dedication and hardwork and all of it could be undone in one single battle where your long honed pokemon suffered a debilitating injury or loss. And then what? Nothing—that's what. You'd be piss out of luck. Lacking any kind of education, he'd be forced to head back to school, years late, slugging behind his peers. He should settle down and get his education now. Work on a real career. Then in a couple of years—but probably never—he could pick up pokemon training as a hobby. Nothing else.

His mom had cried a little. Okay, a lot actually. Mostly she stood behind his dad. Telling him he was far too young to leave home. Once she had cried out _"Why? Aren't you happy here, Barry baby?"._

It was the same story with his friends. At different times, they too had approached their parents. Their requests all worded differently (Barry had started the most boldly: _"Mom. Dad. I want to go far away. Now."_) but the basic question the same. They all wanted to be trainers. And they'd all been shot down. One at a time.

All the time.

But Barry Ocher had certainly not taken no as an answer. Oh no. After hearing that the next open Johto League Tournament would be held in only six months, he had made his decision. Six months. Six months to gather his team. Six months to train them. Six months to attain the bare minimum of eight required gym badges for regional league registration. Six months. Half an year. 180 days. 4320 hours. 259,200 minutes. 15,552,000 seconds. Give or take a few days.

15,551,999 seconds left.

So he had done it. Registered on-line, at .com. He had used his dad's credit card to pay the 6,000 Pen fee. His application had gone in within minutes, and then, as he sat there, tensed before the white computer screen, sweating bullets while fearing that his mom or dad would come into his room and see what he was doing, the screen blinked and the registration process was done. He checked his email and found his conformation mail, detailing the time and date of his commencement as a certified pokemon trainer. New Bark Town, Johto. A little less than one week from then.

One week. 168 hours. That left 4,125 hours until the Johto League opened its doors to new challengers.

The credit card's monthly balance notice would arrive at the end of the month. Two weeks from then. Of course, by the time his parents realized what he'd done, he'd be one week into his journey. Far away. Preferably roughing it out in the wilderness, or maybe even in a dark cave; working toward his first badge.

And for the next few days, Barry had worked on his supplies by night. His days being spent either at the school, listening to his friends talking like schmucks. Gossiping and wishing that they could start their own adventures with the upcoming commencement day. It was a well known thing, advertised frequently. Commencement days occurred twice a month, on the first and third weeks. His friends chirped about it constantly, yet Barry knew none of them planned to take up the trainer's life. And unaware to them, he did. This gave him a good cheer so Barry bought a brand new backpack from a small little store in downtown Goldenrod, from a pathetic little shop in the underground tunnels. He was pretty sure it was stolen, but he couldn't complain. The same brand went for almost 2,000 Pen more in the shops upstairs. Not something his allowance could easily afford.

He stashed his newly bought pack with the necessities he thought he might need on his adventure. Starting with the childish stashes of chips and bottles of soda. He had actually spent an entire afternoon trying to fit his Sylph GameStation Portable, Nintendo DS, and his Devon Xcube180 into his pack, trying to bag all his different discs and games into whatever pockets would hold them. But when it came time to store his clothes, he quickly realized he had a problem. Not even an extra pair of shirt and jeans would fit, with all the space his electronic entertainment required. And it wasn't long before he realized that he'd have to leave his electronic game consoles behind. That was something he hadn't decided on easily.

But there weren't going to be electric plugs in the middle of the woods, huh?

Eventually, he looked it up on-line. Recommendations on what a trainer should bring on the start of their journey. Poogle is a life saver.

And so he packed three pairs of clothes. A basic first aid kit. A bedroll and fire starting material, as well as a few basic pots and dishes (which he hoped his mom wouldn't miss too soon) and a bag filled with bathroom and hygiene items. He didn't pack any food stuffs, although he knew he would need _something _to eat, and probably soon.

He packed his bag, stuffed it under his bed. Gathered his pent up savings from over three years worth of allowance and small jobs and tasks and planned lightly. For some reason, whenever he envisioned the coming months, his stomach hurt slightly, a stabbing sensation near the floor of the lining. But he knew what he must do. Two days before the assigned commencement date, he must travel to the commencement location; rough it, walking the distance between Goldenrod City and New Bark Town.

Exit Goldenrod north, enter Route 35 and enter the National Park to the north. Head east to Route 36 and travel east to Violet City. From there head east to Route 31 and then south to Route 30. Walk south to Cherrygrove City and then it was only the trek east across Route 29 to New Bark Town.

Admittedly, there was a large part of his chosen route he could simply bypass if he was willing to rough it up and abandon the marked roads and paths, cutting through the wilderness from Goldenrod City to Cherrygrove City itself. It would require more than a little hiking but the hassle it could save seemed attractive, except...

Except Barry was defenseless. He had no pokemon.

Yet.

Regardless, to trek through the wilderness was to enter the domain of the wild pokemon. Territories unclaimed by man. And unsafe. If he had a pokemon, it would be doable. Without, he'd need to depend on the man-made roads for safety.

And he'd done it. Boy had he done it.

Three days before the commencement day—a whole day earlier than the two he'd originally planned—he took off. Three days to walk the dozens of miles the journey would require. He left a plain little note on the kitchen table, explaining to his parents what he had done and why they shouldn't go after him. He had decided to be a pokemon trainer, and pokemon trainer he'd be. He thanked them and explained that in about a week, once his journey had started, he would call them. Call them to let them know that he was O.K. and listen to their complaints. But he wasn't coming home anytime soon—at least until he had a few badges under his belt and certainly not as a loser.

And then, three days later, he'd strolled into the urban suburbs of New Bark Town. His knees shaking. His face and arms a lot of brown and a little red from a sunburn he was working on. And his backpack weighing on his shoulders like a boulder set to knock him backwards and send him crunching down a hill.

He was early—he hadn't slept the night before out of jitters—but that was probably just as well. New Bark Town was a small little place, but he didn't want to go and get lost. He wandered the streets for a bit until he asked a patrolling Officer Jenny for directions. _"Head up two blocks and head east aaall the way down the lane. Pretty little spot, you can't miss it." _

_ "Yes ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." _

_ "Well, now. Aren't you just the most polite thing I ever did see?"_

_ "Thank you, ma'am."_

_ "You going to be a trainer today, young man?"_

_ "Yes, ma'am."_

_ "Well, go on. Don't let me keep you—I just know how excited you young ones get on the first day. Smile, okay? Great times await you."_

And Barry did smile as he turned away from the gracious officer and walked down her directed way.

Except that upon reaching the lane that would lead him right on down to the lab, two other people had walked by. Neither of them seemed even slightly as nervous and queasy as he felt. They had a calm and easy going atmosphere as they chatted happily in the morning light. A boy and a girl, both a little bit older than him, but not by a lot. The guy was tall and lean with an olive complexion. The girl was sort of short with shoulder length hair that ended in spiked ruffles. Barry might have disregarded them except that he saw the backpacks they had slung across their backs. The simple and tough clothes they wore. The durable sneakers that muffled their steps. He was sure they were trainers, or rather, soon to be trainers, just like him.

He followed their procession down the lane. Staying a few steps behind, his stomach churning with each step, his eyes glued to the sidewalk pavement directly behind them. And as he trailed, a few words floated down the breeze toward him, passing along bits and pieces of their seemingly friendly conversation.

_ "... so... do you think? Maybe..." _said the girl.

_ "Hah..." _said the boy.

_ "I was... brothers says..." _

_ "No, no... yeah, but..." _

_ "Cynda-?" _

_ "No..." _

_ "Chikorita... my favorite..." _

_ "I'm going to... go... dile... I want..." _

_ "Water type?" _

_ "Yeah, Tododile is definitely the one for me. I've been thinking about it and I think I know where I'm going first..." _

_ "Hah hah, yeah. I've been planning it for months now and—"_

Barry hooked a left. Into a quiet little dead end lane with an old Growlithe napping lazily under an oleander bush. Barry sat down on the pavement and shoved his head between his knees. His lightheadedness has exacerbated. Throwing up was no longer a danger, it was a very nasty possibility. The dozing Growlithe glanced up at him, annoyed, before settling back into its sloth.

What was he doing?

Was he crazy?

Stupid?

He should be back at home now, sleeping in late. Instead, he was in bumfuck nowhere, about to have a goddamn heart attack, and—

"Are you okay?" a quiet voice asked.

Barry froze. He snapped his head up and found the source of the voice: it was the girl with the spike-ended hair. She was standing to the side of the road, an expression of worry on her face.

Shame: that's what struck Barry then. His face burned red and the queasy tumult of his stomach rounded around hard. He threw up, the sensation gagged him and the next thing he knew, he was on all fours, pouring the remains of last night late dinner (a few berries) onto someone's lawn.

The girl approached closer at this, visibly disturbed, but still worried. "Hey now, it'll be okay—"

Barry flinched away from her presence, as kind as it might be. Shame burned him, wormed under his skin, and made him wish a Fearow would swoop down, grab him, and fly him somewhere really far away. He stumbled to his feet and tried walking away, only to realize he had walked further into the dead end street. So he stood there for a few minutes, embarrassment jamming his mind, paralyzing him in place, eyes closed tight, hands clutched in sweaty little fists, while the worried girl stood behind him, unsure of whether to leave or stay.

Finally, it became too much, and Barry managed to stutter: "Really. I'm... I'm fine. I was just... I was just a little..."

The girl giggled.

Barry's eyes popped open and his teeth dug into his tongue. She was laughing? At him? Did she find this whole thing funny? Did she think he was pathetic?

"It's okay. I understand. You're becoming a pokemon trainer today right?" The girl moved closer, arm outstretched sympathetically. "We're all a little nervous. I mean, everything's going to be different after today, right? We're leaving home, we're going to see new things... You're not the only one that's—"

"Shut up!" Barry screamed. He turned around, chest heaving, tears and mucus streaming down his face, bile still burning the back of his tongue. "I... I don't need your pity! I'm going to be a pokemon master! Don't look down on me!"

The girl stepped back, mouth gaping at Barry, but a change had taken a hold of the boy and now he found himself riding a wave of fury. And hell, anything was better than shame and embarrassment at this point, right? The fuming anger he felt building inside edged him forward until he was standing in front of the confounded girl, spittle sprinkling out as he yelled.

"You just stand back and watch yourself! Before you know it, you won't have the time to laugh at me!" Barry finished.

He didn't give the girl a chance to respond, he stormed past her, past the puddle of vomit and the sleeping growlithe (which had ignored the exchange) and turned on the street, straight toward the pokemon lab.

Behind him, the girl stood bewildered on the road, arm still outstretched. Her kindness and sympathy had been met with anger and cruelty, and now she responded the only way she knew: laughter. Waves of humor rocked her back on her heels and sent her into uncontrollable hysterics. The boy had mistook her giggle for a sign of mockery, but really, he had misunderstood. The girl, Tia Strang, loved to laugh and laughter loved her right back. It was second nature to her, to laugh when she was happy and when she was sad or nervous or even angry. And now, of course, she couldn't help but laugh. She wasn't upset—on the contrary, she was amused. Something about the boy, his weakness, his sudden anger, his zeal—it affected her strongly. Stronger than usual, even.

She wanted to meet him again. She wanted to see him vomit again. She wanted to see him scream again.

Before she knew it, Tia was following the boy's path, down the street, hoping for a another chance encounter with the strange boy.


	5. Hunting a Storm

**Chapter 5  
Hunting a Storm**

At the same time that Barry Ocher was busy vomiting and screaming at the girl who would eventually save his life, two sinister siblings were locked in a ferocious pokemon battle, in the darkened skies above Lavender town, in the Kanto region to the east.

Cassandra, the older of the two, rode above the cloud cover atop her Flygon, the mystic dragon-ground pokemon. Her younger sister, Francesca, circled beneath her, atop her own flying pokemon, a flowing and regal Altaria. The two sisters were beautiful redheads that looked almost completely alike—except for their hair: Cassie wore her hair in a single long ponytail, while Fran styled her's into two.

The pair soared through the overcast sky at frantic speeds, their faces masked with consternated focus as they peered through the clouds and occasional swerved to evade flashes of lightning and unsettling winds. Intermittently, one of them would raise a small mechanism to their eyes that resembled binoculars, but were actually devices used to track pressure fronts and electromagnetic focus. Around them, the morning sky throbbed and screamed at them in the midst of the storm—large water droplets splashed at them haphazardly and chilling winds wound around their bodies, threatening to yank them right off their pokemon if they didn't hang on for dear life when they had to drop or swerve to avoid disaster.

This battle, however, was unlike any you were likely to find taking place on the ground, under "official" or "legal" regulations—indeed the manner of this particular battle was extremely high-stakes and dangerous. The trainers in question were actually wanted, for crimes of illegal poaching and hunting.

And yes, now as well, they were on the hunt for their next big score.

The weather today was strange. Dark and stormy—a weather forecast that had not been predicted by any local station, and logically (if one were to take the time to analyze the warm pressure front that pervaded the area) should not be. But people around these remote parts of Kanto had long become accustomed to unusual and sudden displays of electrifying storm fronts that tended to go as quickly as they came. No one really knew what caused the sudden storms. A few researchers had even penned a few papers, attributing the weather to the large power plant that lay to the north. But their studies had proved only slightly conclusive, because although the storms _had _begun around the time the power station was built, it seemed to be a phenomenon that occurred only here, and was not present in the large (in some cases, larger) power plants of other regions.

Well, actually, the unusual weather that plagued this area wasn't so mysterious. A few of the power plant workers had their suspicions—dark shapes caught crooning in the midst of a strike of lightning. And of course, small towns always have their stories. The thunder bird, the electric god. One of the more charismatic third graders in the local school had been punished for perpetuating a spooky story that entailed climbing to the top of the pokemon burial tower during such a storm and catching sight of a giant monster made of lightning perched at the peak. He was given heavy detention for scaring a gaggle of children and inciting a group of braver souls to rush the tower during one storm in such an attempt. A few of them ended up breaking a few bones from tripping in their frantic rush up the narrow and winding stairs that were slick from the rain.

Little did the reproachful parents know that the story actually had more merit in truth than not...

And certainly, the two sisters that now circled above and below the turbulent cloud cover also had their suspicions, but they were not grounded in the idea that the cause in question might be an angry deity—they thought it might be a pokemon. And before this chance encounter was over, they were determined to capture it.

"Do you see it?" Cassandra called to her sister below, her grip tightened around her Flygon when it bucked unexpectedly.

"Yes! I think," Francesca cried back. "It's definitely there. I can't see it through the cover, but something in there is generating some serious juice! The scope is confirming a focus of thousands of gigawatts worth of power, and it's waaay too concentrated to be environmental!" Francesca's Alteria entered into a dangerous barrel roll to evade a sudden lash of lightning. "See that? It knows we're here! It knows we're looking for it!"

"Enough playing around then." Cassie smiled. "Freeze it out."

"Right," Fran replied.

Cassandra motioned downward and her Flygon mount descended in a long arc, coming to a slow downward spiral below the dark storm. It was much more rainy here, and Flygon did not like water, but Cassie ordered it to try and endure. Below them, the glimmering lights of a small town were visible—a single tower rose above the rest of the buildings, a solemn structure. Above them, the clouds twisted oddly, seemingly tied around an unnatural focus. Cassandra gazed into this twist of cloud and electricity and imagined see could see a pair of bloody, red eyes staring back at her, furious at her interference in its meal...

Actually, was she imagining that?

Cassie blinked and realized something _was_ looking at her. This was it—their suspicions had given fruit! They had searched long and far, they had come across many legends and folk stories, they had traveled from region to region, but finally, here and now, the two had finally come across the real deal. A legend! A monster of a pokemon that was said to exist only in old stories!

And they were going to catch it—

A wide bolt of electricity shot out suddenly, the quickest strike yet. In an instant, it shot out and arced into Cassie and her Flygon, at the speed of light. Cassie didn't know what hit her. One instant she was ecstatic at the possibility of finally pulling in an amazing haul, and the next the entire world seemed to be vibrating. She wouldn't remember this thought later, but for the most fleeting of an instant, she could have sworn she felt the whizzing of the atoms in her heart come to a crashing halt. Flygon was completely fine, being a ground type and all, but Cassie wasn't so lucky. Her body was launched off her pokemon and flung into the air, going into a dangerous spiral towards the ground below.

Her sister up above, meanwhile, forced her Altaria deeper into the center of the storm. Her Altaria, being part flying type, was obviously uneasy about the prospect of approaching the force of the electrical discharges, but Fran urged it on. They had to capture the this pokemon—wielder of the power capable of creating a storm that shook the heavens. Francesca gritted her teeth and placed her head next to Altaria's neck, as her pokemon worked to avoid any electrical bursts. Twice, she heard a terrible whizzing and the smell of oxidized air were her only warning to understand how close they had been to being hit by the powerful flashes of energy.

Fran blinked when her loyal pokemon came to a sudden stop. They had pierced the wicked cloud cover and entered a surprising area: a calm, circular center in the midst of the storm, much brighter than the stormy darkness outside. And it was here, in this unusually serene area, surrounded by the flashing of the lightning and the twisting of clouds, that there target waited.

Wings outstretched, pointed head thrown back, the legendary lightning pokemon, Zapdos, lifted itself in a lazy sort of flight, keeping itself in place as its huge, spiked wings beat occasionally. It was glowing, its entire body producing a strange kind of illumination, as long strands of electricity leapt up and away, into the storm outside, beyond the calm sphere.

Zapdos was holding on to something, Fran realized. In its long, hooked talons, an oval shaped object, seemingly structured from pure electricity, thrummed every time lightning flashed outside, in the storm. Fran realized what this must be. The two sisters had theorized that these storms signified that the local Zapdos must be feeding on the abundant energy in the atmosphere, or maybe that it was discharging excess energy. And maybe it was the case usually—but not today. They were incredibly lucky. The adult Zapdos before her was giving birth to a new egg—a baby Zapdos that would soon enter the world.

It was utterly beautiful. Francesca didn't think she had ever seen anything as breathtaking as the scene she witnessed in that circular focus of shining light surrounded by darkness.

"Ice beam!" Fran said.

The Zapdos had time enough to open its eyes in surprise at the unexpected intrusion before Altaria opened its mouth and shot out an icy beam of below arctic temperature energy, aimed straight at it, the center of the storm.

The effects of the onslaught were instantaneous. Zapdos, the center and source of the storm, froze in a solid block of ice, and its connection to the storm meant that the storm followed suit. The water in the clouds, in the atmosphere itself, turned to ice. The frozen block that was Zapdos began to plummet, but this was part of the plan—Cassie was waiting before, ready to catch the frozen, legendary pokemon...

Far below in the town, a child pressed her face through her kitchen's window and shouted at her mama: snow was falling!

Francesca had a moment to let sheer relief, even more numbing than the cold that suddenly pervaded the sky now, flood her nervous system, before everything went to hell.

"There are two!" Cassandra screamed.

Francesca turned down and saw her sister, hair wildly spiked with static, skin and hair ashen and burnt, clinging desperately on the back of a long Dragonair, ears extended in beautiful white wings.

"Cass? What happened? You look like hell."

"Two! There are two of them! Two Zapdos!"

"_What?_"

Realization was sudden and cold.

Below, through the gray clouds, Flygon was whizzing through the sky in a defensive manner, as a large yellow bird, a Zapdos, pursued closely, firing off blasts of energy that bounced right off the ground type dragon.

_Parents_, Fran thought. _If this is a laying for an egg, then there must be two parents. Two Zapdos. The mother lays the egg, the father protects the mother while she's vulnerable. _

The father Zapdos ceased its aggressive chase of Flygon when it saw the the large, icy form dropping to the Earth below—the frozen mother Zapdos and the new egg. With a riveting cry, it launched an electric burst of energy that slammed into the ice block and revitalized the frozen lightning pokemon, shattering the ice and awakening the mother.

The two legendary parents reunited together, lightning flashing and booming as they joined together, before turning angrily to meet the two hunters and their pokemon in the sky.

"This is bad," Cassie said.

"Yep," Fan said.

"They aren't regular pokemon, they're monsters of energy and power."

"I know."

"We might have gotten one _if_ we'd gotten the drop on it..."

"But facing two of them, angry and all...

"It's impossible." Cassie finished.

The two Zapdos began their assault, discharging an immeasurable amount of strands of electrical energy around them, they rushed forward, their intent obvious—they planned to decimate the would-be-poachers.

Cassie and Fran pulled back atop their pokemon mounts. The fall back plan in this kind of situation would be evasive maneuvers—splitting up and retreating in order to make any kind of pursuit difficult. So when Fran didn't pull away and head in the opposite direction when Cassie fell back to flee into the wintery cloud cover, Cassie was surprised.

"I've got an idea," Fran said simply.

"Yeah? And was is it? Getting us both killed?"

"The egg. Let's focus on the egg." Fran continued.

"I'd really rather focus on getting out of this alive. What egg are you talking about?"

Behind them, one of the Zapdos screeched angrily and sent a ricocheting ball of energy—zap cannon—after them, but characteristically, it missed by about a mile, harmlessly shooting off to the side.

"They're parents. Look. See the mother, the one on the left? It's holding the egg in its talons," explained Fran.

"Oh, great. So your plan is to piss them off even more? How do you expect us to nab their egg _and _get out of here alive?" Cassie retorted, bitterly.

"Listen carefully. Your Flygon has to catch me when I fall."

"When you _what?_"

"Here, take this." Altaria leaned closer and Fran tossed a pokeball into Cassie's grasp. "That's Altaria's pokeball. Recall her when she starts to plummet, too."

"What are you talking about? Why would the two of you fall? This is insane—"

"Fly ahead of us, but don't go so far that you leave us out of sight. You'll know when to come back for us. And make sure you pluck the egg before it falls too far. Me and Altaria will distract them long enough for you to get far enough."

"What are you planning?"

Fran linked eyes with Cassie, determination burned there. "Go," was all she said.

Cassie sped ahead as Fran pulled back, slowing toward the approaching storm of electrical rage that were the pair of Zapdos. Cassie dared not look back, but she heard the booming roar of electrical strikes lashing out and illuminating the gray sky. The rain had returned and the warmth of the electricity discharged met with the chill of the chilly snow in the cloud to create a tricky front of highs and lows, which simultaneously worked to throw Cassie from her dragon mount. Still she clung on, only stopping finally to turn back when the flashes of lightning seemed to grow distant from distance.

Fran, atop Altaria, flew between the two rampaging legendary pokemon, but it looked strange—it was surrounded in a strange green light with strange, starry symbols. Bolts of lightning launched out from the Zapdos and hit the green shield, dissipating harmlessly.

_Protect_, Cassandra realized. _She having Altaria use protect in succession to nullify the electrical damage. Stupid girl! You know that you're pressing your luck like that! It's too risky! Protect is bound to fail if you use it like that!_

Then she realized that there was another strange color present in the scene she was witnessing. She almost missed it because the green glow from protect and the the Zapdos themselves seemed to shimmer with electrical discharge, but yes, there was another effect being produced by Altaria, there in between the Zapdos.

"She using Perish Song!" Cassie gasped.

Protect failed. The green shield around Altaria and Francesca disappeared (really, it was a miracle that it had lasted as long as it had) and the Zapdos, obviously infuriated by the sight of their attacked failing, launched a volley of electric attacks at the vulnerable hunter and her pokemon.

The result wasn't pretty. Francesca and Altaria screamed into the sky before collapsing into a spinning fall. Cassandra didn't hesitate, she sped forward on Dragonair, toward the shape of her falling sister. She didn't see the two legendary pokemon suddenly collapse, she didn't see the mother Zapdos let go of her precious egg—victims of Perish Song's effect.

Cassie's eyes were focused intently on her sister.


End file.
